


soft breath, beating heart

by Anonymous



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Barebacking, Dark!Foggy, First Time, Law School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins with the end of another night out, a few too many drinks, and a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	soft breath, beating heart

**Author's Note:**

> Contains graphic noncon between Foggy and Matt.
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/6237.html?thread=12197213#cmt12197213) at the kink meme.
> 
> Title from 'Tear You Apart' by She Wants Revenge.

Foggy almost couldn't contain himself long enough to get the words out. "Marci! Marci. It's me. Foggy." He paused. "Is your refrigerator running?"

Marci swore up a vicious storm and the line went dead. Foggy tossed the phone away onto the nightstand by his bed before exploding with laughter. "There! My humiliation is complete! I'll never talk to her again. Your dare has ruined my life. We were going to go to coffee next week!"

From where he sat cross-legged on the floor, Matt tilted his head back onto the mattress and cackled with way too much glee. Something flopped in Foggy's chest at the sight of the smooth line of Matt's throat. 

"She'll forgive you. Probably." There was the slightest slur to his words. He lifted his beer for a sip with an air of finality, which would have been way more effective if he hadn't spilled half of it down his shirt along the way.

That set them off into another round of giggling. Matt picked at the fabric around his neck and made sad noises. He was way further gone than Foggy right now, thanks to a very lively two-person game of Never Have I Ever and a generous helping of some frankly terrible cheap tequila. Not that Foggy himself was sober by any means, which was why he'd taken a moment to watch Matt without even an inkling of the usual shame that struck him. Openly ogling a blind guy because he can't see you? Creepy, dude. Creepy. 

Matt put his drink back down, and Foggy clapped his hands together. "Alright! Your turn, buddy. And don't think I'm not gonna take my revenge. Truth or dare?"

"Huh," Matt said, considering. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Foggy couldn't look away. "Truth."

Foggy's mouth suddenly went dry. He’d kind of been expecting a dare – that was what Matt had said on his last million turns. He swallowed, then asked, "Have you ever kissed another guy?"

Matt's face split into a dopey grin. It might’ve been the lighting or the alcohol, but he'd gone very pink. Foggy's heart pounded. He wasn't sure what answer he was hoping for - or, oh hell, what reaction he wanted. It was a bit much to hope Matt would somehow have a mind-blowing revelation and suddenly return Foggy's hopeless crush, right? And maybe it was a bad idea to bring this up now. Definitely a bad idea. It was their first night properly moved in to their new apartment off-campus, and awkwardness was not good. Not that they hadn’t already had plenty of awkward moments – because such was the nature of having roommates! – but this, living independently like adults and sharing a lease for the first time and all that, was different.

"No," Matt finally said. But he wasn't done - he opened and shut his mouth a few times, trying to get the words out. "I'd like to."

An image flashed in Foggy's mind, of Matt with some nameless, faceless man, their mouths crushed together, tender and warm but just as intense as any of the kisses Foggy'd accidentally walked in on with Matt and yet another new girlfriend. A sudden burst of _want_ sprouted in him, and inexplicable jealousy of his own fantasy. Without warning he got up, grabbed his own beer from the table where it had been neglected and took a much-needed swig.

Matt pushed one foot out to nudge Foggy's ankle stunningly accurately before Foggy could sit back down. "Dare you to get me another drink," he said, definitely slurring now and having apparently decided to move on from their conversation. Maybe he'd already forgotten it? Foggy wouldn't have been entirely surprised. He'd never seen Matt so out of it before, leaning against the bed with his legs sprawled out in front of him and a goofy, faint smile on his face, cradling his now-empty beer bottle in his lap.

"That's what you're wasting your dare on? And what if I wanted to pick truth?" he snorted as he headed towards the bar fridge in the other room. He swung the door open and called back, "We've only got cider left."

There was a hum that sounded like acquiescence, so he popped the bottle open with a clink and bumped it gently against Matt's knuckles.

"Your turn again," Foggy prompted when Matt had spent way, _way_ too long with his mouth wrapped around the top of the bottle. This man was going to be the death of him.

“Dare,” Matt answered cheerfully, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Right,” Foggy breathed, “Cool.” If everything went terribly wrong he was going to blame it all on the alcohol, but this was where they were leading, right? All signs pointed to Hell Yeah, Go Get Your Man, Franklin P. Nelson. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Matt giggled, honest-to-god giggled, and held one arm out towards Foggy. “Okay.”

This was really happening. It was really happening, and Foggy was going to have a heart attack, but not before he kissed the hell out of his smoking hot roommate. He shuffled over on his knees and, very hesitantly, put one hand on Matt’s shoulder. Matt’s hand found his collarbone and slid up and up, around the back of his head, leaving a trail of electricity.

Foggy was, honestly, just expecting a peck. But as they pulled each other in and their lips met, it didn’t stop there. Matt moved to rest his hand against Foggy’s cheek, drew away for half a second to breathe, then – yep, that was tongue. They were making out. No question about it. Foggy was making out with Matt Murdock, the absolute most beautiful person in the entire university, the entire state, and possibly the entire continent.

When they stopped, it was like both an eternity and a second had passed. Foggy’s mouth was still tingling, but the feeling of Matt’s soft, slightly chapped lips on his was fading all too quickly. He had the memory of Matt’s tongue in his mouth, _his tongue in Matt’s mouth_ , but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. God, he wanted more.

“That’s – uh. That’s how you get all the ladies, huh?” he joked weakly as Matt extricated his fingers from where they’d ended up tangled in Foggy’s hair. Thank god he looked just as shell-shocked as Foggy felt. Matt was supposed to be drunk off his face. Where had all that tongue agility come from? Totally unfair.

Matt didn’t answer, just shrugged vaguely. He made a motion like he was trying to take his glasses off – glasses that were definitely not on his face, but had long been abandoned in the living room somewhere – and, when he couldn’t find them, he murmured in confusion and rubbed at his eyes instead. Like a sleepy panda. Foggy’s heart was about to pop like a balloon, that was how adorable it was.

He was about to remind him where the glasses had gone when Matt mumbled, out of nowhere, “My shirt smells.”

“Probably the beer, buddy.” He kicked himself for how breathless he still sounded, but Matt didn’t seem to notice. He only nodded in sage agreement and tugged the collar of his shirt away from his face. The line of his throat, from his Adam’s apple to the divot where his collarbones met, all the way down to the space between his perfect pecs, was on full display for Foggy.

Something strange and dark uncurled inside him.

“If it’s bothering you that much,” he suggested, aiming for casual, “Just take it off.”

Matt nodded without question. He gathered the hem of his tee in his hands and tugged it upwards, but had obviously long lost the coordination needed to finish the rest of the action. He gave up and left his shirt bunched up somewhere around his midriff. God, even his belly button was perfect.

Foggy swallowed around the lump in his throat. This was probably going to be the only moment in his whole life he’d have this chance, and he was not going to let it slip past. “Here, let me help.”

Matt pouted (yep, definitely a pout) but didn’t seem to mind when Foggy shifted closer to pry his fingers from the material, so he went for it. He lifted Matt’s shirt over his head, the fabric still warm – practically burning in Foggy’s hands – from body heat, and pulled Matt’s arms upwards just enough to get the shirt off completely. It was lobbed somewhere in the direction of the far corner of the bed, half-intentionally out of both their reaches. Matt turned his head, as if he was somehow following the sound, then stopped to rub his cheek, like a cat, against the corner of the fluffy bedsheet hanging from the bed.

Foggy sat back on his heels, suddenly desperate for the extra air. His gaze skittered over Matt’s bare torso, and a little of the old embarrassment returned, but not quite enough to make him stop. Seeing underwear models in pictures was one thing, but in real life –

Well.

They were quiet for a moment, Matt still kneading his face into the bed like it was a normal thing to do and Foggy totally subtly grinding the heel of his hand into his groin to stop the impending boner in its tracks.

Matt spoke up first, a little jumbled despite the care he was taking with his words. “Is it my turn again?”

Foggy was baffled for a second before it clicked. Oh, their game!

No, it wasn’t Matt’s turn. Foggy remembered that _very_ clearly; there was a very good chance that kiss would be seared into his memory forever, which was exactly how he wanted it. But something possessed him to say anyway, “Yeah, it is. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” A good choice, since Foggy wasn’t sure Matt was in the shape to answer a truth at that moment.

“Great. I dare you to…” Foggy began, but paused. Was he really going to say this? There wasn’t going to be any going back.

He glanced down at Matt’s body, and. Yeah. Yeah, he was doing it. Now or never.

“Matt, have you ever played Just the Tip?”

Matt screwed his face up in drunken bewilderment, and Foggy could practically see the words bouncing around inside his head. He held his breath, waiting for the answer. This was it. Either Matt would happily play along like he had for the kiss, or he would sober up in about three seconds flat and Foggy would be thrown out of their brand new apartment for good for being such an unrepentant creep. He really, really hoped it wasn’t going to be the latter.

After a beat: “…I said _dare_ ,” was the mildly indignant response. Matt prodded him impatiently in the side of his thigh, which Foggy guessed was just the easiest part for him to reach.

Foggy couldn’t help it – he laughed. “Okay, fine. I dare you to play Just the Tip,” he amended, and added, “With me.” As if there was anyone else in the room. As if Foggy would ever want Matt to do it with anyone else.

Matt’s brow smoothed, apparently appeased, but the slightest wrinkle remained. “How?”

“Seriously?” Foggy said, “You know how.” But a little shake of Matt’s head assured him that, nope, he had absolutely no idea. Which… how was that possible? Surely he’d at least heard of it before. 

Foggy let out a dramatic, falsely put-upon sigh. “Alright, young grasshopper. Tonight, you’re learning all about the wonders of this majestic, historical game of romance.”

“Romance?” Matt repeated, looking a little unsure for the first time that night. Which, seriously, he had no right to be after that incredible round of very enthusiastic kissing. At least, that was what Foggy told himself.

“Romance and dickery. Literally, dickery.”

Matt broke out into a short giggle, which Foggy took as a cue to continue.

“Well, first, we need to both be on a bed.”

“Easy,” Matt smiled, raising his hand to tap the back of his knuckles on the mattress by his head.

He didn’t make a move though, so Foggy had to take the initiative. “ _On_ the bed,” he prompted, “Not laying around next to it. Come on.” He got up and planted himself down onto the mattress, then tugged Matt’s arm – his very well-muscled, well-defined arm, wow – to follow.

Matt looked confused, but still happy enough. He flopped down onto the bed beside Foggy, narrowly missing the wall by his head, then let Foggy rearrange him so he was on the pillow. Foggy was… not a strong-willed person, and let his hand brush ever so lightly along Matt’s ribs as they shifted around on the bed.

“And now?”

It was Foggy’s turn to be uncertain. He hesitated, until Matt did some kind of unbelievable full-body undulation on the bed to make himself comfortable, and that sharp surge of desire swelled up again in Foggy’s gut.

“You need to take these off,” he said as boldly as he could manage, and slipped a finger under the waistband of Matt’s grey, worn-soft sweatpants so it snapped back onto his hip with a light _thwap_.

Matt didn’t move. He made a face Foggy couldn’t read. “What’re you going to do?”

Foggy could tell this was going to need to be explained with tact. Finesse. Neither of these were things he had a lot of, so he had to speak carefully. “You know how you wanted to kiss guys?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So you tried kissing me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it was good, right? Even though we were just trying it out.”

Matt made the same sound of agreement, and the tension in Foggy’s stomach unwound. _Thank god._

“You’ve thought about sleeping with guys too, right? This is just like trying that out,” he explained brightly, “Except we won’t even go all the way! That’s why it’s called ‘Just the Tip’. You know, so you can just see how it feels.” He almost couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. He was basically every parent’s worst nightmare. But he… he wanted Matt _so much_. Now that he knew for sure that Matt was into men, or at least into some bi-curious experimentation, he couldn’t let it go. Especially not after all that kissing. Not after learning that he was allowed to have more than hopeless, unrequited pining.

“You want to have sex with me.” It was a little slurred but Matt said it so bluntly, Foggy cringed.

“Not like that! Well, I mean. It won’t really be proper sex. It’s like a free sample.” _Just enough to get you hooked_ , Foggy thought hopefully but didn’t say aloud. “And I honestly mean just the tip. The head and nothing else, promise. We can still use lube and condoms though, whatever you want. I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

Matt was still hesitant, Foggy could tell.

“It’ll be fine,” he egged him on, when Matt looked to be on the verge of refusing. “And it’s a dare, remember?”

Matt chewed on his lip and Foggy let him digest the idea. He knew he’d been right on the money when he mentioned Matt wanting to try things with other guys. There was no better opportunity than now. At least, that was certainly what Foggy thought, and he hoped the same had occurred to Matt.

The quiet stretched on for so long that Foggy began to wonder if it was possible for Matt to fall asleep with his eyes open.

But Matt came through in the end.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I trust you, Foggy.”

Foggy hissed in triumph and pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Don’t worry, you are definitely going to have a good time. Just lie back and enjoy the show.”

While his heart rate was busy ratcheting up to its maximum, he bounded off the bed to rummage through a thus-far still packed cardboard box, until he got hold of the toiletries and pulled out a small bottle and a foil square. When he returned, Matt hadn’t moved an inch.

Foggy settled back onto the bed and dared to lean down for another kiss, which was only a short peck on the lips this time. He sat himself down between Matt’s open knees and walked his hands up from Matt’s thighs to his waist, where he stopped at the edge of his sweatpants. Beneath him, Matt let out a small sigh and rolled his shoulders, pushing himself into the sheets to snuggle in deeper.

This had to be some kind of miracle. Here he was, Foggy Nelson, moments away from doing the do, bumping uglies, knocking boots, with the one guy he’d been lusting after and crushing on since the very first minute they met, almost two years ago.

He took a breath to steel himself, then pulled Matt’s pants down, his sweats and boxers all in one motion.

Matt laughed airily, and Foggy probably would have too, but the breath was caught in his throat. How was it possible that Matt had such a perfect… everything? His imagination had absolutely not done Matt any justice. His chest, his abs, the sharp V of his hips, the trail of dark hair that led down to his half-hard cock. And all of it was on _Foggy’s_ bed. Right this second.

He took a deep, almost panting breath and unzipped his own jeans to pull out his cock, sighing as the pressure disappeared. He had the condom in his hand and was a second from tearing the packet open to put it on, until – a thought occurred to him.

He glanced down at Matt again. Matt’s eyes were half-closed, and he ran his hand listlessly over the pillowcase in repetitive, circular motions like he was trying to map out every last thread in the cotton. It was a far cry from how chatty he’d been only half an hour ago. Hell, Foggy had had to practically beg him not to dance on the table at Josie’s before they made their way home.

If Foggy, say, on a whim, decided not to use the condom, there was no way Matt would know.

His gut twisted sharply at the idea. His bare skin against Matt’s. Nothing separating them. Some part of him knew it was a bad, bad idea, but what harm could there be in it? Besides, Foggy would only get this chance once in his life. If he didn’t do it now…

He lay the condom to the side, to be forgotten.

The lube wasn’t negotiable, though. Foggy’s experience, truth be told, wasn’t actually very extensive but he still knew _that_ well enough. He picked up the bottle and flipped the cap open. The click made Matt tilt his head like his ears were pricked, and his hand stopped on the pillow.

“You alright there?” Foggy asked, though truth be told, he wasn’t sure he was looking for an answer. He was way too keyed up to press the pause button now. Understandably.

Matt gave a rough approximation of a shrug and mumbled something Foggy didn’t catch.

“I’m gonna do it now,” he said, because it was only polite, and smeared a blot of lube from the bottle onto his hand. He coated his cock with careful, careful movements – didn’t want to end the show now, when it hadn’t even started yet. Matt didn’t respond, which Foggy guessed was as good as an okay.

With a grunt, he got up onto his knees and pulled Matt closer until his thighs were snug on either side of Foggy’s hips. Foggy could hear his own blood rushing in his ears. For the millionth time that night he wanted to pinch himself in case he was dreaming. This was _his_ cock pressed up against Matt’s ass, and _his_ hands wandering up the side of Matt’s ribs and waist, thumbs massaging the broad bands of muscle there.

He wrapped one hand tight around his cock and positioned himself, taking measured breaths to keep from jumping the gun.

Then, with one hard thrust, he was inside.

 _God,_ it was everything he’d ever, ever dreamed of and more. Matt was maddeningly tight and hot, and Foggy was definitely keeping true to his word of ‘just the tip’ but it took every last ounce of his willpower not to push all the way in. He lowered himself down over Matt so they were pressed together, chest to chest, and moaned into the corner of his jaw.

He was so preoccupied with the utterly _impossible_ feeling around his cock that he almost didn’t notice Matt pushing at his shoulder, kitten-weak. “W-wait,” Matt stammered, “I don’t…”

Foggy rushed to calm him. “It’s okay, Matt. It’s gonna feel good. Give it a minute.” He wrapped one hand around Matt’s dick and Matt bucked out of reflex, teeth biting down into the edge of his lower lip. “See?”

As he pumped Matt’s cock, now fully hard, Matt’s breathing gradually slowed under him. He lowered his head for another kiss, pushing his way inside Matt’s mouth and licking the reddened spot on his lip that had been bitten so hard. Very gently, very carefully, Foggy withdrew a little to thrust back in, careful not to go any deeper than before, no matter how much it was killing him.

Matt gasped. The leg against Foggy’s waist twitched and bumped him in the side. He twisted his face away from Foggy’s. “No,” he slurred, “Stop’t.”

But Foggy couldn’t. He desperately, desperately didn’t want to. The thought made something shrivel up inside him – giving up this moment, right here, with Matt naked, flawless, and clenched so tight around him? He couldn’t do it.

“Don’t – don’t worry,” Foggy answered, voice small. He knew he was supposed to stop. He’d promised. He…

No, there was a solution to all this. Sure, so Matt wasn’t enjoying it, but instead of stopping, Foggy could just – make sure he _was_ enjoying it. He knew how to do that. He had a reputation, and one he fully intended to uphold. He slid his hand up and down Matt’s cock with more purpose this time, and slid his thumb over the head, smearing precome along the length. His other hand reached over to flick at one of Matt’s dusky pink nipples. The resulting moan was music to his ears; he was definitely on the right track here.

Next on his list was Matt’s prostate. This was taking a risk, but surely it would help. Matt would like it, Foggy told himself. He kept stroking Matt’s cock, keeping things at a steady flow, then began pushing himself deeper inside. Only a little at a time, in short thrusts. To get Matt used to it.

“Foggy, what –” Matt choked out, all his syllables blended together, “Ngh, no, stop it…”

Foggy shushed him, but not harshly. “It’s okay,” he repeated, “It’s okay.”

Matt squirmed beneath him, but without energy. The movement pushed him even further onto Foggy’s cock, and Foggy groaned. He let go of Matt’s cock so he could get a hand on each of Matt’s nipples, pinching and rolling the nubs between his fingers until he earned another moan out of those perfect lips. Then his hand was back, stroking at Matt until he was totally mute with pleasure, mouth open but no sound coming out.

Foggy couldn’t resist. He let go of Matt’s nipple, now red from the stimulation, and curled his hand around Matt’s jaw to dot kisses all the way along the line of light stubble there. When he reached Matt’s ear he took a detour to the corner of his eye, and landed a soft peck over his temple, next to those madly fluttering eyelashes.

He began to thrust, still slow and sweet, trying to make it last as long as possible. It must’ve felt good, or at least not _bad_ , to Matt – his cock twitched in Foggy’s hand at every stroke and his breath huffed out in cut-short punches that matched their pace. Foggy panted in Matt’s ear, his free hand still tracing every inch of Matt’s body, from his jaw to the meat of his ass, worshipful and adoring.

“God, Matt,” he sighed and moaned in equal parts, “You’re so beautiful, everything you do. Wish you knew what you do to me. Love you. Love you so much.” The words babbled out of him without much meaning, punctuated with the press of his lips on whatever part of Matt he could reach.

The insistent but faint shove of Matt’s hand against his chest, over his shirt, disappeared. Matt slung his arm over his face. But Foggy wanted to _see_ him. He laced his fingers into Matt’s and tugged his arm away – too easily, with how loose-limbed Matt was in that moment – to hold it on the pillow.

It was brilliantly timed with another thrust, one that had Foggy nearly inside Matt to the root of his dick. Matt clenched down and moaned so loudly it was almost a sob, and Foggy had to hold his hip down to keep him arching off the bed entirely. He went back to his previous pace, slower and more subdued, but rewarded Matt with a lick to the shell of his ear and in the dip of his collarbone.

It went on like that for – Foggy didn’t know how long. He hadn’t exactly been concerned with the time passing. Instead all his memories were stored as moments. The things he said. The spots he touched, kissed, tasted. He wanted it to last forever.

Matt came first, with a strangled shout that sounded like it had been carved out of him. His breathing broke into low panting, out of rhythm as if the air couldn’t escape his lungs fast enough. His face crumpled as he twisted away from Foggy, eyes shiny and wet. Overwhelmed.

Foggy sped up his thrusts, chasing his own high. This couldn’t last much longer – he was close, so close, until finally he tipped over the edge. He spilled into Matt, then immediately slumped over to one side of the cramped single bed. His brain was still zooming somewhere up in the stars of the next galaxy, and he lay there for a minute with his eyes shut to catch his breath. Now that all of the lust was squeezed out of him like toothpaste, he felt nearly sober again.

That was when the horror hit him like a brick wall.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. What had he done? The dread gripped his lungs and didn’t let go. He’d just forced his best friend to have sex with him. He got Matt drunk, talked him into it, held him down, ignored all the ‘no’s, made him… God, there was a word for that: _rape_. He knew that. He’d raped his best friend. He’d…

He sprung upright with hopelessly inadequate apologies at the tip of his tongue and forced himself to look into Matt’s face, ready for the pure loathing and disgust he deserved.

Matt… didn’t have any of that. He looked blank, even peaceful. His eyes moved sightlessly from the ceiling to the wall by the bed, and each breath was a steady rush that made his chest rise and fall almost imperceptibly. With one hand over his stomach and one by his side, he looked like an old Victorian painting.

The vast disparity between what Foggy expected and what he saw was a shock, like ice cold water on a fire.

Foggy had a burst of clarity – or close enough to it – and his mind grabbed it with both hands. It hadn’t been rape. No, Matt had wanted it too. Just as much as Foggy. Why else would he look so mellow and calm right now? Foggy had seen him angry before, usually at all the various injustices in the cases they were studying and all the horrible things people did to each other. It wasn’t something Matt hid. And he’d seen him sad too, on certain days of the year. There was none of that right now, nor any other reaction Foggy feared he’d face.

So it was all good. Replaying the events in his head only cemented that. Matt had been happy, Foggy had been _very_ happy, and everyone was willing. There were a few shaky moments here and there, but really, it was just an awkward experimental one night stand. And it hadn’t been bad; they both came in the end.

Still, some smidgen of the feeling of _wrongness_ remained in the pit of his stomach, and he had to… ask. To make sure.

He lay his hand gingerly over Matt’s. “M-Matt?” he said haltingly, “Are you –”

Matt drew away and the mattress dipped as he suddenly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, so all Foggy could see was the shadowy outline of his back. He’d moved too fast, and dipped dangerously sideways in the dizzy way Foggy had gotten to know well, but steadied himself on the bedside table.

“Where are you going?” Foggy asked, his voice reedy.

There was no answer. Foggy wondered if he’d even heard. Still stark naked with his own come splattered on his abdomen, Matt levered himself to his feet with the bedside table and took a shaky step away. There was a mix of come and lube between his legs, shiny in the dim light.

“Matt?” Foggy asked again, only to get silence.

Wordlessly, Matt disappeared out the doorway, leaning heavily against the wooden frame. The next sound Foggy heard was the shower turning on. He listened, and waited for Matt to return.

But the rush of the water went on and on.

Finally, his eyelids drooped, too heavy to keep them open, and Foggy fell asleep.


End file.
